When Hell Freezes Over
by Nicky Gabriel
Summary: Post SR. "You remember those three minutes?" Hutch asked looking at him hesitantly. "I guess so," Starsky admitted.


Thank you **Laura McEwan** for your help. Without you it would be a disaster. All mistakes here are mine.

**When Hell Freezes Over**

Starsky parked the car and looked at his friend, who had not even moved since they crossed the state border. Hutch had been silent for a few hours now, but the silence wasn't so strange, as they were tired and all they craved was a warm hotel room, a shower, and a bed. But Hutch had been in this odd mood from the very beginning of their journey and Starsky had a feeling he knew what it was all about. Not that he didn't have issues with it. Starsky just knew the look in Hutch's eyes and he wasn't sure how much longer he could put up with the attitude. But apparently Hutch needed time, and time was something Starsky was ready to provide.

They sat in the car a couple of minutes before Hutch realized they weren't driving anymore. Only then did Starsky put a hand on his shoulder.

"Any better?"

Hutch shrugged but still was not looking at him.

"Starsk?" he asked after a long while, when his friend not only did not withdraw his hand but also kept gently massaging his stiff neck.

"Hmm?" Starsky shot him a glance, questioningly.

"Uh." Silence. "Would you..." More silence. "Maybe we should... I-I think..."

Starsky squeezed his shoulder to stop his incoherent babbling.

"Hey, it's me sitting here, just to let you know, in case you forgot," Starsky rebuked him playfully. "Since when you're afraid of me?"

Hutch blinked fiercely and only then looked at his friend.

"W-we s-should take separate rooms," he offered faintly, but did not look away.

Starsky raised his eyebrows. "I snore too loud, don't I?" he asked with mocking reproach. Until now in their journey they had been sharing double rooms, but Starsky was now sure that that was what had Hutch in this strange mood.

Hutch laughed at that, but he also looked at his friend with visible gratitude.

"Whatever you say, babe," Starsky agreed, and left the car.

Hutch sat in the car for a while alone, but when Starsky pulled out their backpacks, he got out and took his own, following Starsky into the motel.

Starsky knew that half of his clothes were inside his friend's bag, as well as his shaving kit, but he also knew the effort it took for Hutch to make this request, so he chose to let it be.

For now.

*

Hutch lay on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. They had told Dobey that all they needed were some vacation days – not sick leave – but Hutch realized that for Starsky it was a way to prove to himself and to the rest of the world that there was nothing impossible for him. Crossing the country just to spend a couple of weeks with his mother had been, until now, something unreachable.

Hutch also had one unreachable goal in his sight. Since May he had not left his partner's side, even for a while. And yes, at first Starsky did need care all the time so at the hospital Hutch had let others tend to his needs. But after he was released it became Hutch's job for most of the time. For three months Hutch worked at home; the next two he had been assigned to desk duty while Starsky continued his physical therapy. Another two months, and they were both waiting for the board's decision; and finally, in November, they were back on the streets.

Now it was December and Hutch still could not let him go. He was aware that Starsky was waiting patiently for that to happen and had not said a word, most probably only because he did not want to hurt his friend's feelings.

Hutch hit the surface of the bed for who knew how many times in the past two hours. One wall. Just one wall separating them and it caused so much pain. Hutch knew he could live without Starsky. He could breathe not hearing his friend's breathing. He could live not feeling Starsky's heartbeat under his own fingertips. But it was hard. Damn, it was hard. Not so long ago Starsky was the most important thing in his life. The only constant he could count on. Now every day was a gift. How could he let it go? How could anybody expect him to?

The knock on the door – surprisingly – did not startle him. Hutch was there in a heartbeat.

"We need to talk," Starsky said, standing in the doorway and leaning on the frame. He was still wearing the same clothes and Hutch realized with a sharp pang that he really had missed him, even though they had only been apart a couple of hours. And it had been happening often recently. Too often for his liking. Hutch stepped aside and let his friend enter.

"Sure," Hutch closed the door. "What do you want to talk about?"

Starsky stopped in the middle of the room and remained silent for a while, but finally turned around and looked at him.

"Hutch, I have a question," he stated calmly.

Hutch said nothing, raising an eyebrow encouragingly. Though he tried not to show how nervous he really was, the man could actually hear his own heart beating. He wondered if Starsky could hear it as well.

"Do you trust me?"

Hutch blinked with surprise. That was the last thing he expected to hear. _Will you finally let me be? Don't you think it's high time you moved out?_ These were the questions he feared the most.

"What?" asked Hutch, slightly stunned. "Sure, I trust you." After nine years of partnership he doubted he could trust anyone more.

Starsky came closer and Hutch, for the first time, noticed a few grey strands in his friend's hair.

"No, Hutch," Starsky whispered seriously, laying his palm over Hutch's heart. "Do you trust _me_?"

Hutch suddenly was sure they were not talking about their job or any kind of danger they had to face every day on the streets. He squeezed this hand slightly and did not take it away.

"You know I do," Hutch repeated.

Starsky also did not move.

"So, why are you beating yourself up like this?" he asked with reproach.

Hutch did not like where Starsky was heading, even more so because his friend could read him too well, but he had never lied to him and had no intention of starting now. The best way to avoid this conversation was to step away, but Starsky wouldn't let him.

"Hutch, stop it. It's your room, where are you going to go?"

Hutch took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel Starsky's hand leave his chest. He sighed deeply and then sat on the bed, saying, "Listen, I know what you're trying to do, but we both know it had to happen one day. So it's today, so what? I helped you get back, helped you regain your life, but now I'm just standing in the way. It's high time I… you know…" Hutch waved a hand, knowing he didn't need to finish the sentence.

Starsky sat next to him, close enough to touch, but he was looking ahead, not at Hutch.

"Have you ever wondered why I never told you to move out?" Starsky's voice was now barely audible.

Hutch frowned and looked down at his hands.

"I'm trying to figure it out all the time," he murmured.

"And?" Starsky looked at him with interest.

Now Hutch had no choice but to face him.

"I think you waited until I brought it up." He shrugged.

"As to not hurt your feelings?" Starsky actually laughed at that. "Do you really think I wouldn't let you know you weren't welcome anymore, if that was the case?"

Hutch just shook his head, for he recalled vividly how pushy Starsky could be when needed.

"Starsk, it's not as it was when Van left me," Hutch tried to explain. "I know you made me find a place after I spent six months in your apartment waiting for my divorce."

There was still a smile on Starsky's face.

"You weren't eager to do it yourself," he specified with amusement.

"Yeah," Hutch agreed also with a little smile. "You found one for me. Very fitting, I must add."

Starsky remained silent for a while, but when Hutch didn't say anything he just put a hand on his knee and asked, "So, what's different now? Hmm?" he asked seriously. "If you still share an apartment with me, it's only because I have no objections."

Hutch could not stand it anymore. He stood up and took few steps away from the bed, involuntarily brushing away a few strands from his forehead.

"And that's what I don't understand!" he admitted, almost angrily. He did not know why he was so angry and why at Starsky of all people, but he just couldn't pretend it was not there. "Why?"

"And this is the reason why you wanted to spend tonight alone?" Starsky was still sitting on the bed and right now he looked as lost as a little boy.

"No," Hutch decided that apparently he should explain it as if actually to a little boy. "This is the reason I wanted _you_ to spend tonight alone."

Starsky clenched his teeth and Hutch could see he was getting angry as well.

"And it didn't cross your mind that maybe _I_ need you as much as _you_ need me?" Starsky asked still trying to control himself.

"Not anymore," Hutch just shook his head. He said it without regret or complaint, for he accepted it some time ago. It took him a while to admit it, but now – when he actually said it – it was a reality and now he could face it. But he did not expect Starsky's fierce reaction. His friend looked as if he had hit him. Hutch has never seen such pain in his eyes.

"What do you mean, _not anymore_?" he yelled. "That I can run a mile as fast as you do, doesn't mean that the rest of my life is no longer important to me!" Starsky jumped to his feet and looked at him with anger.

"Don't you understand?" asked Hutch, almost digging his fingers into Starsky's shoulders. "I can't live like that anymore. I still need to – Every day I need to convince myself that you are really alive! That you are still here. That –"

"And you think I don't feel like that?" Starsky interrupted this speech gruffly. "For me it's even worse. In case you forgot, it's me who was dead, not you!"

Hutch stepped back, feeling as if Starsky had hit him. His friend seemed to realize immediately what he just said, but it was too late to take it back.

"I'm sorry," was all Starsky said, reaching out as if to touch him, but seemed to changed his mind and only looked at Hutch hesitantly.

"Well, it's true," Hutch admitted with a sigh. "You didn't say anything I hadn't already known."

Starsky just stood there for a while, but finally lay back on the bed and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.

"But you don't get it, Hutch." It was not even a whisper. Hutch had to sit next to him to hear the rest. "I remember it. And what was before – and after."

Hutch could feel his heart beat rising. They never talked about it before.

"You remember those three minutes?" he asked looking at him hesitantly.

"I guess so," Starsky admitted, shrugging.

"Listen, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

Starsky only slipped his hand under Hutch's palm.

"I remember darkness. And cold. I remember you in the parking lot and then – just cold and darkness. Nothing else. I can't explain it, but it took ages," Starsky closed his eyes for a while. "Sometimes I could hear voices, but it never stayed for long. Mostly these were nurses, doctors. I never heard you. I've never felt so lonely as then. I never felt so cold. I know what they say about the fires of hell, but... Hutch, I think it's cold in hell. And there is most certainly no one there. No one but – but me." Hutch could feel as if Starsky was trying to crush his hand, but did not react. He was more in pain because of the hurt in his friend's voice than because of the physical pain he was causing him. Starsky was apparently not even aware of it. "I was alone there. Hutch, have you ever felt so alone?" Starsky did not seem to expect any answer, for he continued, "The worst was that I still could remember how it was when I was _not_ freezing. When I was _not_ alone. When everything was _not_ black. That was what hurt the most. I did know what I had and I did know what I lost. And then I could feel this horrible pain, and I tell you, Hutch, even that was better than what I was feeling before – this nothingness. It was as if somebody tried to rip my heart off. And then..." Starsky turned his head so Hutch could not see his face, but Hutch noticed the tears in his eyes. He did not push it, for they were Starsky's three minutes and only Starsky's. "And then I could feel cold and darkness again."

Starsky stayed silent for a while, but he did not take back his hand. Hutch patiently waited. He remembered how he felt a few months ago when Starsky was in the hospital, in a coma, and nobody knew if he was going to make it. Hutch had been so scared that he couldn't even touch him. He was scared to say anything, because if simplest touch could hurt him, then sound would make him suffer even more. It took him a while to reach out, to take his hand – so cold and unresponsive, and to tell him everything about the case, the fear that haunted him, and that Starsky meant the world to him. When a few hours later Hutch had said everything he wanted to share, Starsky's hand was as warm as his own. And that day his friend looked at him for the first time since he had been shot.

"But suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. You were there," Starsky's voice brought him back. "I still could feel this cold and there was darkness, but I was not alone. And I had a reason to fight the rest." Starsky looked at him. "Hutch, it's really not worth it. I know you don't want to leave. There is no reason to go. Give me one good reason and I won't stop you. Hell, you don't even have to give me any reason. I trust you, too, you know? If I'm wrong and you really want to leave, I'm not going to make you stay."

It was Hutch's turn to look away. But he knew that Starsky deserved more, so he met his eyes.

"Are you still cold?"

Starsky shook his head slowly, and a smile crept onto his lips.

"I bet you came here to snore, didn't you?" teased Hutch, ruffling his hair.

"I came here for my tooth brush and shorts, you dummy. You don't think I'm going to sleep wearing my jeans, do you?" Starsky stood and reached for Hutch's backpack.

"Love you too, Gordo."

Starsky easily avoided a pillow coming his way.

The End


End file.
